Unattainable Dreams
by Oso el Peligroso
Summary: Narrowly escaping beheading the Stabbington brothers set up camp for the night in an attempt to rest, but is there ever rest for wanted criminals? Stabbington/Stabbington
1. Supper Time

**Disclaimer: I do not own Tangled or any of the characters. Also I do not own the song **_**I see the light **_**(from the soundtrack).**

**Warning! This story does contain homosexual and incestual themes so if that kind of content offends you have been dually warned.**

_"All these years watching from a distance,_

_All my life hiding from within me_

_All that time spent fearing_

_Just how'd you react_

_Now I'm here confessing to the moonlight_

_Now I'm here mustering the courag..."_

The faraway rhythmic crunching of heavy boots upon the various twigs and leaves that littered the forest floor silenced Gregory's foolish singing. His brother could not uncover his secret yearning, lest he lose the last thing that the world had not stolen from his grip. Lazily wafting into his nostrils black smoke took his attention down to the now charring hog that Lawrence had spent the greater part of the afternoon hunting.

"Bloody hell!"

Panicked at having burned the supper his _older _brother had slaved to attain, Gregory's arm lost control of its strength flinging the spick upwards. Insides still moist with tender juices, the pork block slid off. The half burnt meat cylinder flew through the night sky only to be brought down seconds later by a combination of a tree in the way and the physical force later to be named gravity. What would have been a dull thud was brought to near comical levels as the ruined dinner conducted a symphony of disturbed leaves, snapping branches, a harassed owl, and the final note of the crescendo being the boom of the meat chunk colliding with the foliage covered ground; creating a blast radius of ten centimeters.

The now closer walking rhythm broke into a run, Gregory's insides churned gifting him with the sudden urge to wet himself.

Facing the direction that Lawrence would emerge from and rearranged his face to the _kitten_, an expression that sometimes incited mercy from big brother.

From the blackness came fourth shining brilliance, undoubtedly the fire light reflecting off the magnificent gold breastplate of a knight in the service of the kingdom of Solstace.

"In the name of Edward Von Solstace the twenty-third I place you under arrest Lawrence Stabbington." The voice unwavering but still lacking true authority, the knight was only relatively experienced unlike Gregory who had spent his whole life dealing with authority in unsavory manners.

His hand instinctively went to the right side of his hip where his blade, Ramherst, normally hung sheathed awaiting battle.

"Still thy hand, your bastard lay unattended by your tent."

_Defeated _his arms reached for the sky, showing that he was unarmed. "What next, Sir Knight?"

"You will sit down, keep your arms raised, and still thy tongue. Marcus and Erin should return soon with your brother in hand.

Irrational fraternal worry threatened to break his calm demeanor, a nasty occurrence that happened whenever they were separated and in trouble. It was as predictable as it was reliable never failing to haunt Gregory; even though they were both experts at getting out of tricky situations. A psychological scar left behind by a broken childhood riddled with abuse, abandonment, poverty, and undue cruelty.

Far off sounds of a skirmish sounded feebly, the vibrations filtered through the countless trees. His captor lost focus looking in the general direction that the sounds of battle had come from. Gregory saw the opening and dove forward ramming his head just underneath the knights breastplate, granting him access to the softer tissue. Straightening his legs and using the added momentum of his charge he flipped the flabbergasted Solstace pawn onto his back. A warm stream of blood traced down his face, ignoring the minor injury he swiftly retrieved Ramherst and placed the fine point against the exposed neck flesh.

"Tell me Sir Knight, do you have a family?" Pressing the tip deeper, drawing a droplet of blood that rested haphazardly on the cool steel.

"Aye, a wife and daughter of seven." The movement of his adams apple caused the bastard to sink deeper, the perfect ruby becoming thin streams not unlike those running form his hair line.

"Taking such a dangerous job is grossly irresponsible, what of your family if I decide to kill you?"

"They-"

"Quite dog, or'll have your head out of principle!" He removed Ramherst from the mans throat aimed at a break in his armor and thrust it through his shoulder. Birds sleeping in the immediate area flocked away in a flurry of molested feathers as the knight let fourth a drum shattering bellow that minimally expressed the agony of having a blade slice through necessary muscle, ligament, and bone. Gregory repeated the same action with the opposite arm, summoning the horse twin of the previous bellow.

"Still your cries, consider this a mercy now getup and get lost." He helped the wounded knight to his feet and pushed him back into forest in the direction of Solstace. "Make haste if you wish to make it before you fall victim to blood loss!"

Gregory turned his attention toward where the music of battle had originated, straining his ears for naught a sound had emanated since the earlier distraction.

"Hands in the air." Called a stern voice from behind followed by the tip of a blade pressed against the small of his back.

His thick hands unwrapped themselves from the hilt of Ramherst, which fell to his boots with a dull thud.

"Your too soft letting 'im go instead of guttin' 'im." Lawrence chastised.

"Then my blood for his is it?" Retorted Gregory with a chuckle, awfully glad that Lawrence was fine.

"The ol' Kingdom couldn't bleed enough to equal ya brother." Shoving his own blade Crissel into his sheath enabled him to playfully backstab Gregory in the back with his large index and middle fingers.

Taking the roll he fell to his hands and knees coughing the last bit of life out of his body. "You foul dog, living true to thy surname!"

Lawrences' boot found itself slamming into Gregory's rump, sending him crashing into the muddy floor. Howling with laughter Lawrence turned his attention to getting their camp packed up.

Gregory turned over in the filth and held himself from pouncing on his brother for taking the joke to far. He cleaned himself as best as he could manage before joining his brother in packing.

"We'll travel over the Opac mountains ta that clearin' ya tol' me about." Lawrence explained, back to business. "Should be able to get some rest there, way you told it no one knows 'bout it."

Gregory grunted in agreement, in no mood to speak to his _older _brother.

**Author's Note**: **I've researched the Stabbington brothers looking for first names but it seems like they have none so I took liberties and named them myself.**

**I also named some other things [like the Kingdom] and if they actually have official names I will change them promptly, just be sure to inform me.**

**Lastly this was supposed to be a one shot thing, but I foresee at least another chapter.  
**


	2. Nightmares

The shabby village was dead still, all of the serf cursed peoples fast asleep after a toilsome day of working out in the unyielding fields. The shabbiest dwelling was more segregated from the others, near the border of the Rejeml Woods. The star ocean above was clear of any clouds and the moonshine was bright enough to read outside a book with moderately sized print [not that any of the inhabitants of the nameless village possessed such a skill]. From within the removed dwelling heavy thuds and the coarse rustle of shoddy blankets were drowned out by a booming voice filled with drunken fury.

"Al'righ wich un'er ya two piss'd te bloody bed?" His poor English was marred further by an evening filled with homemade pig-swill.

The sliver light from was bright enough that what came through the un-curtained bedroom window illuminated the domestic scene in viewable horror. Two young boys, no older then seven had themselves plastered against the wall scrunched into tiny balls like terrified hedgehogs.

"Ey sed, 'oo piss'd te bloody 'ell piss'd te bed?" Vociferously he summoned forth a monstrous membrane of phlegm from the mucus built-up in his lungs and spat it maliciously at the wall. With surprising accuracy the sickly mess collided with the wall perfectly in the center between the two boys, splashing them with specklettes of contempt.

In the subtle _nolight _all of the inhabitants' flesh were accentuated to a ethereal beauty, their pale milky skin almost glowing. This was especially true of the boys whose skin had yet to be subjugated to long days under the suns punishing rays. Their normally loud hair the shade of a campfire was dulled offering an odd juxtaposition, something only an artist would be interested in. They wore identical ratty garments to bed, further fortifying the sameness of their twindom. Fear drenched tears ran down their cheeks, both boys fighting the urge to hold each other for comfort [past lessons had taught them that acts of singularity against their father only ended in more severe beatings].

Being a man of action, inflamed by alcohol, he failed to notice that Gregory was covering himself from the waist down with one of the smaller blankets. He gave a final slurred warning, "F'none o'ya fess up, then I'lh hav'ter givh it ter both ya."

From the corner of his eye Gregory could _see_ Lawrence deciding to protect him and take the fall, something a regular sibling would have a difficult noticing if at all. Lawrence was constantly saving him from the wrath of their father by taking most of the blows and blame, but Gregory was tired of letting his brother get the worst of it. "I did it da."

Lawrences' strengthening composure faltered back into that of a scared little boy upon hearing his brothers proclamation of being the one whom accidentally urinated on the bed.

"So et wos lil' Greg-y?" Words a lurid charade of kindness. Edmund Stabbington focused his malice at Gregory's tiny frame, almost crushing it with infinitesimal pressure. He was not really mad at his son, Edmund had participated in multiple sexual scenarios where he had been peed on. Getting _angry_ at his sons was one of the few things that gave him sensual pleasure.

"I-I-I ha a scary dweem." Gregory managed clutching the brown material tighter.

"I 'ave 'em all te time, but I ain't piss'n te bed m'I?" His normally small mouth was in a wide toothy grin, something a predator gives to delicious pray. He took a lumbering step back, "Com'ere." A thick muscle wrapped finger pointed to where his mountainesque frame had been seconds ago.

Gregory scrambled to do as his father commanded, moving off the bed with his blanket still clutched in one feeble fist. Compared to his father he was nothing more then an insignificant bean pole overshadowed by a tremendous peak that many had challenged and had failed. Edmund snatched the soiled blanket with such great force that he knocked Gregory onto the warped wooded floor.

"Geh up! An take yer clothes off."

He lifted himself off of the floor quickly glancing at his throbbing hands to see if they had any scratches on them, they were clean or at least looked so in the night dim. He peeled his sticky shirt recently soaked in fear induced sweat first then hesitating no more than a second his britches. Unyielding frigid air wrapped Gregory's body to which it feebly fought with shattering teeth and goosed flesh.

Edmund dropped to his hunches and engrossed Gregory's hairless sex with a measured hand, deliberately not causing immediate harm. "Oy, how'd yer tiny pecker piss so much?"

"I-I"

"Stupid pecker." The heavy back hand with a light field of red hairs that had been caressing Gregory's genitals moved with righteous speed striking Gregory's right cheek, the sheer force lifting him off of his feet and sending him on a short flight ending with a sore crash a meter away. "Dream's mi foot, bloody lazy like yer whore mother. Nex time get up r'll mak ya a cunt."

Warily Gregory got back to his feet, nauseated by the blow his entire right cheek already swelling to mammoth proportions. "Sorry." He managed in-between heavy sniffling and heavier tears.

"Yer arse can sleep in te corner tonigh."

Gregory hobbled as fast as he could toward the moist blanket that offered promises of cover and some warmth against the inclement air.

"Eh! I men't te other corner. No boy o' myn gonna sleep in piss."

A twang of rebellion fired` off and Gregory had to suppress the surprising feeling knowing full well that mouthing off would lead to a thorough beating. He had been through tough situations before, he would be able to last the night without freezing. Edmund climbed back into bed ignoring the rather large wet spot that covered a wobbly twenty-three inch radius of the bed. Minutes later he was snoring deeply, back in the arms of sleep.

"Greg?" Lawrence called cautiously over his fathers deafening snores.

"Yeah?"

"I'm coming to keep you warm."

"But da'll get mad."

"Da's always mad, he'll either forget what happened or he'll hit us. Nothing to be too scared 'bout."

Gregory's throbbing check seemed to radiate more violently as if to protest his twins words, but chattering teeth and bare chicken skin were reasons enough to accept Lawrence's offer topped with Mrs. Lambs words of advice. The time his father had put him out late fall for spilling his milk he had caught a pneumonia, it was during that week in his sick bed when Mrs. Lambs told him to never let himself get caught out in the cold again or the pneumonia would come back. "Thanks."

Fastidiously Lawrence crawled to the end of the bed and hopped onto the coarse un-swept wooden floor. Up upon the bed their father made a choking noise interrupting the steady thunderous roar of his snores, both brothers froze Lawrence's right foot with plump round toes hung suspended in midair. Neither dared to breath afraid that any reverberation, no matter how quaint, would awaken their father from his slumber. Edmund rolled over and enveloped Lawrence's pillow with his strong bear arms, an act that the boys loved being a part of feeling it one of the moments when their father showed his love and caring for them.

Lawrence relaxed heavily plopping the foot he was straining to hold up and maintain balance, seemingly at the same time the still soft uncalloused sole came into contact with the floor that their humble dwelling shook violently as the front door exploded open. Lawrence fell backwards back landing painfully against the bed landing on his tailbone; scrunched in a fetal like position for warmth Gregory also fell back from the shock of such sudden force attacking their unremarkable dwelling; Edmund shot up at a ninety degree angle, a frightening scowl across his face that neither Gregory or Lawrence had seen.

In front of them all blocking the only exit stood a slender figure as tall as their father, equipped with skin tight material as black as lightless night. All her body was covered except for her eyes that gleamed an unnatural fire ruby red. A steel short sword clutched tightly in her left gloved hand, gleaming future death throughout the house.

"Edmund you foul pig, time calls upon you to answer for your crimes against my sister." A heavy sultry voice announced.

"Ya damn'd whoresister got paid fo 'er services, an' I went as' far as ta take in mi sons who may not be o' mi loins. Now git outta mi home!" He swung his tree trunk legs over the bed, they stood opposing forces radiating raw power.

She took notice of the twins for the first time and let out a distressed whine her resolve wavering for a second and returning in lunatic strength. "I will strike down you spawn in mercy for their childhood and so that mirrors of you cease in the future." She gracefully swung at Lawrence meaning to split his head in two.

A thin line of blood spattered across the drab brown wall, what would be a deep rouge by the time the sun rose was a sickly wet black with a subtle moonlit gleam. Lawrence shriked in pain holding his right eye, blood lazily slipping from betwixt his fingers and streaming down his elbow.

"Lance! Git your bother and take yer arses outta here!" Edmund yelled, short sword stuck at the bone of the arm he used to deflect away from doing major damage to Lawrence.

"Da!" Gregory shouted tearfully as the blade slinked back to the assassiness' control and straight into his large gut.

Lawrence went for Gregory grabbed his hands, "He'll be fine, we gotta run or he won't be able ta fight."

Edmund wrapped both his massive hands around his would-be murder's head, bearing down as much pressure as he could, he would crush her skull for trying to destroy _his _family in the name of the whore-slut who had the nerve to leave him only to return diseased and with two red headed infant boys.

Lawrence went out the window first standing upon Gregory's bare shoulders and jumping out all the while holding his injury. Gregory took a second to look back, the assassiness was re-sticking his father. "Da!" It escaped him without any kind of permission.

"Git out you sod, ey'l be fine!"

Gregory needed no more, he shuffled out of the window and ran naked with his brother blindly into the night.

Authors Note: Thanks to all who commented! I will definitely use all those corrections in any future stories featuring these two but after much internal debate I've decided to finish this one as is.

Also sorry for the time it took to update, like I said I was debating whether or not to just wrap this story up and start fresh with my newly given facts or continue.

Anyways enjoy and review if you got the time! =]


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